Saving Her Shadow

by Lutishia Lovely

We sat together, side-by-side on the plush leather couch overlooking the city skyline. In front of us, a recorder, and two cups of water sat on the coffee table. Evelyn crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap.

  “Where is your husband?” she asked, though I’m sure she knew my answer.

  “He’s working late.”

  “Do we need to reschedule?”

  “He’ll probably be working late then too.”

  Evelyn nodded her understanding and remained silent, watching me gather my thoughts.

  “That’s why I was late,” I went on, the argument festering fresh in my mind. “He’s just being so damn difficult about this whole thing.”

  “I want to hear about that,” Evelyn said. “But first, tell me about a good time with your husband.”

  I sighed, already recognizing her tactic. She liked to do some kind of sandwich-method, start with something positive, then let out all my negative energy, then end positive. As irritating as the strategy was, the shit was effective. I let out a breath and closed my eyes.

  * * *

  “You look so beautiful, Mrs. Davis,” Keon murmured, the words causing my body to heat with anticipation. I did a seductive sway of my hips, slowly peeling out of my wedding dress. The hotel room was nearly dark, illuminated only by candles my husband had placed on the bedside tables. His naked frame looked delicious laying on the white sheets and rose petals, and the light from the flame flickered across the hungry gaze on his face. He licked his lips and I wanted to cream right there.

  “I’m in love with you, Mr. Davis,” I said, crawling up from the foot of the bed.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  He kissed me, caressing my lips with his tongue. “Damn, I’m gon’ get you pregnant tonight, girl.”

  I laughed and let him roll on top of me. This man of mine. My forever. Mr. Playboy, who I had waited through woman after woman while he got his shit together. Always his little booty call. Finally his wife. It was about damn time.

  * * *

  “He’s dealing with it,” Evelyn said, her gentle voice breaking my memory. “In his own way.”

  “I’m the one having to deal with it,” I said on a frown.

  “Adria, he lost his daughters, too. And a sister,” she added at my continued silence. The last sentence had me wincing. She was right. Kimera was his sister, but she was my best friend. As much as it pained me to admit, it was easier to not think about her. Not thinking about her made it easier to not blame her, nor feel guilty about blaming her, since she had lost her life. More memories flooded through me, threatening to swallow me into some kind of black hole.

  “Tell me about Kimera,” Evelyn said. “Before . . . everything.”

  For the first time, I reached for my water and took a desperate swallow. Despite the fruit I knew Evelyn infused with the water, it remained tasteless, the liquid seeming to hit my stomach without touching my throat.

  “I had known Kimmy since middle school,” I started. “The girl was a mess, even then. Always seemed to be in some kind of trouble. But I loved her. More like sisters than friends. I used to tell her she never took anything serious, but that was just Kimmy. The epitome of living her best life. But we were always there for each other. I never even really came out and told her I was feeling her brother because honestly, I knew I was being stupid for that boy. Somehow, she always knew though. Just like I knew she was in love with Jahmad, Keon’s best friend. But Keon and Jahmad were both young and seemed to always be in some kind of competition on who could sleep with the most girls.”

  The statement came out snarky but that didn’t change the facts. Restless, I rose and wandered to the window.

  “Jahmad hurt her so bad when he moved away. It was clear he had just been using her for sex, hell, just like Keon was doing to me, but me and Kimmy, we were built different. I dealt with the shit, but my girl, it changed her. There were times I didn’t even recognize her . . .” I trailed off at the thought.

  “Changed her how?”

  “Kimmy met Leo,” I said simply. “And well, you know the rest.”

  Of course she did. I had hashed out the past two years for Evelyn over the past five sessions. How Kimmy had met Leo, a man with two wives. How his long money had prompted her to enter the poly relationship as wife number three, because she would be able to get her hands on enough money so we could open our cosmetic store. The fact that Leo had been harboring a huge secret, and that secret resulted in me and Kimmy being kidnapped and tortured for nearly a week. That was three months ago, but it seemed like yesterday.

  * * *

  Pain snatched me from darkness, piercing my body like a thousand blades stabbing from flesh to bone. Everything was throbbing, and a slight ringing in my ears seemed to overwhelm the quiet conversation. Someone was talking. No, several people, in hushed whispers, as if they feared disturbing me. But as the raw memories came barreling back, licking the recesses of my subconscious, I knew it was too late. I was well past disturbed.

  I moaned, not bothering to open my eyes to face the dark realities. I was in this mess because of Kimmy—being held hostage, deprived of food, and subjecting my babies to this torture. I hadn’t done anything but be a good friend, but now . . . A noise ripped through my thoughts, followed by silence. I could feel eyes on me. Then,

  “Adria?” Keon. My husband’s voice held the weight of uncertainty. “Babe? You awake?”

  I lifted heavy lids, squinting against the sudden glare of the hospital room lights. One by one, the other figures came into view, first Keon, then my mother-in-law, First Lady Davis. And judging by the man in the lab coat at the foot of my bed, my doctor.

  He came to the side of my bed, a gentle smile on his lips. “Mrs. Davis,” he said. “I’m Dr. Hinton. Can you hear me okay?” He plucked a pen-like object from his breast pocket and shined the light in my eye.

  “What happened?” My voice was hoarse, unrecognizable. I cleared it, bracing against a headache that was beginning to intensify.

  “You’re in a hospital,” said Dr. Hinton. “We’ve been treating you for about eighteen hours, but it’s good to see you finally came through. Are you in any pain?”

  “Yeah.”

  “On a scale of one to ten?”

  “One hundred.”

  Dr. Hinton chuckled, though I didn’t see this shit as humorous. He scribbled something on a notepad, then checked some fluid in the IV bag near my bed. “We’ll increase the dosage of morphine,” he said. “And I’m going to check on your MRI and ultrasound results.”

  Ultrasound? My hand went to my stomach in alarm. “Are my babies all right?”

  Dr. Hinton’s eyes lowered before glancing to Keon on my other side. The panic rose with this silent exchange of information.

  “Babe,” Keon’s voice cracked. “They did everything they could—”

  “No!” I shook off his hand and lifted the sheets to eye my stomach. I still had a pudge. My babies were okay. They had to be. “They’re fine,” I said, sinking back into the pillows in relief. “Thank God.”

  First Lady Davis turned her back to me, shielding her face from view. I looked back to Keon.

  “They’re all right,” I said with a small smile. “I’m all right. We’re all right.”

  He shook his head and my heart fell as the first few tears rolled down his cheeks. “No,” he said. “We’re not.”

  * * *

  “Do you feel like it’s Keon’s fault you lost your babies?” Evelyn’s voice again, cracked through my sordid memory as I struggled to blink back tears.

  “No,” I shook my head, my voice surprisingly forceful. “No, of course not.”

  “Then why are you so angry with him?”

  “I’m not angry with him. I’m angry with . . .” I trailed off, my heart not allowing me to utter the name. I shouldn’t have been angry with Kimmy either. But how could I not? Still, how could I place the blame on a ghost? Yes, my babies had lost their lives in this mess, but so had K
immy. And my nephew Jamal. So really, whose burden was worse?

  “You told me a few sessions ago that you were Christian,” Evelyn said. “Have you been praying about this issue?”

  I didn’t respond, afraid to let Evelyn know I hadn’t cracked open a Bible, nor said anything to God since the good pastor, my father-in-law, was killed. I didn’t like to admit I had turned my back on Him, but I couldn’t really see where He had helped me in any way thus far.

  “I want you to go home, and read Psalm 73:26,” she continued, scribbling her instructions on a notepad. “And I want you to write down a list of everything you have to be thankful for. I want us to do a little exercise next time you come in.”

  I shook my head, already dreading the assignment. “Come on, Evelyn. You know that’s not what I need.”

  “What do you need Adria?”

  “Can’t you just write a prescription?” I said instead.

  “The anti-depressants? You’re not due for a refill yet.” Evelyn stared at me a little longer, making me uncomfortable under her scrutiny. I averted my eyes.

  “I know. I just wanted to see if you could write something stronger,” I lied. “I’m not sure if it is really working for me.”

  “Let me be the judge of that,” she said with another one of her signature smiles as she handed me the scratch sheet of paper. Defeated, I rose to leave. A sudden swell of anger had me mumbling a quick goodbye before nearly running from the room. Dammit, I had been out of pills for two days, a supply that should have lasted me the rest of the month. I had figured Evelyn could just call in some more to my pharmacy, so I hadn’t prepared for her refusal. But fine, let her be on her Dr. Phil rampage. I knew someone who could get me that same medicine for cheaper anyway.

  1

  The Bahamas. Sun and sea. Gentle breezes. Tasty drinks with floating umbrellas. Paradise. Kennedy Wade thought about the refreshing drink brought by the kind boat captain as she placed her foot on the boat’s gunwale and braced herself against the boat’s gentle rocking to snap a round of pics. She was relieved that the showers from that morning had passed over the island, leaving behind fluffy cumulus clouds floating in a bright blue sky. She looked forward to enjoying her last day on the water, as she’d intended. For the past two days she’d crisscrossed the island, documenting its beauty, and writing up the accompanying article for a spread set to appear in the Chicago Star newspaper’s upcoming Memorial Holiday Sunday edition. But today was for her. As she took in the beauty of the Caribbean, with its pristine white beaches, turquoise waters, and verdant countryside, a rare, philosophical thought assailed her. Kennedy wasn’t necessarily religious, and had no real concept of heaven or hell, but if for whatever reason she landed in the latter, at least she would have caught a glimpse of paradise.

  “What are you doing, girl? You’re supposed to be relaxing.”

  Kennedy smiled. Clinton’s lyrical phrases drifted toward her on the wings of the wind. The boat captain had helped make the time pleasurable during her ten to twelve-hour work days. He regaled her with colorful stories about famous people who’d visited the island and engaged in shenanigans they hoped would stay there—just like Vegas.

  She lowered the camera. “Taking pictures like this is relaxing.” Not like the other days, while waiting for the right light or searching for the perfect shot, then returning to her room to spend another few hours crafting the words that would bring the reader fully into this idyllic world. “Today I can just take in the beauty and capture the magic when it happens.” She looked beyond Clinton and motioned with a nod of her head. “Like that.”

  Raising her camera, Kennedy placed the colorful lines of a perfect rainbow squarely in the middle of her lens. She adjusted her aperture to enhance the color, then engaged her long-range lens for a clearer shot. She took several frames, pulled out a bit to include a small island, and shot a few more. Her finger hovered over the shutter when a flash caught her eye. What was that? Instinctively, she pushed the shutter in rapid succession before lowering the camera, squinting as she shielded her eyes from the sun. They were a good distance away from the island, which was dense with brush and tropical trees. She looked for Clinton, who’d returned to the helm, then back at the rainbow. It had shifted and begun to fade. She joined the captain up front.

  “These smaller islands all around. Are they inhabited?”

  “Some of them, but not these out here.”

  “Are you sure?” She nodded toward the rainbow, now behind them. “What about that one, directly in front of the rainbow?”

  “Someone owns it, but as of right now it’s uninhabited.”

  “I could have sworn I saw a flash while taking pictures.”

  “It could be anything,” Clinton said. “Most likely something reflecting against the sun.”

  “Like what?”

  The captain shrugged as he waved to a tourist boat passing by. “We’ve had hundreds of years for all kinds of things to have washed up on these shores.”

  “That makes sense.” Kennedy spent the better part of an hour photographing the beauty that surrounded her. Satisfied, she sat on a bench facing the water and rested her head back to look at the sky. “This is the life right here, my friend. You are so lucky to call this home.”

  “Easy enough for you to do too, if you want it. Plenty of people want their picture taken. You could set up a little stand on the beach, get a printer, make it work.”

  “You make it sound so easy.”

  “Everything’s easy in the Bahamas.”

  Probably true, Kennedy imagined. Not like back in Chicago where freelance photographers and writers outnumbered White Sox fans, making both industries dog-eat-dog. Or where she’d just unraveled herself from a complicated relationship that had continued long past its expiration date. Even in paradise, there was no escaping serial liar/cheater, Will’s incessant texts begging to be given one more chance. She’d blocked his number, but he’d only used a friend’s phone or bought burners to continue his pleas. It would be a hassle to change a number she’d had for more than a decade, but maybe that time had come. Because after too many chances to count, Kennedy was done with the brother named Will. Done with him, and for the moment, done with thinking about him. She reached for the decadent rum punch she’d saved for this moment, settled herself against the bench’s far side, stretched her legs out and allowed the water to rock away the stress of the past few days. She thought of her friend Gwen who worked in advertising for the Star, and had given her the inside info that led to this plum assignment and her being rocked like a baby in the ocean’s arms. She needed to find a gift of thanks before leaving the island.

  “Wake up, sleeping beauty. It’s time to go ashore.”

  I went to sleep? Kennedy blinked her eyes against the setting sun as she righted herself on the bench and accepted Clinton’s outstretched hand.

  “I can’t believe I was that tired.”

  “You’ve been working hard, lady.”

  “I know but still . . . I planned to see more on the return trip than the back of my eyelids.”

  “Plus,” he added, with a nod toward the empty glass that set on a table. “You were sipping at sea, and you know what they say?”

  “No, what do they say?”

  “Bahama rum packs a punch.”

  Said with such infectious glee and in that rhythmic accent, Kennedy joined Clinton in laughing out loud. While doing so she noted his pristine white teeth, the dimple peeking through a five o’clock shadow, and the cute little crinkles surrounding his sparkling onyx eyes. To make sure she was healed from Will, she’d sworn off casual dalliances and one-night stands. Was she sure that extracurricular was out?

  His voice dropped an octave as he added, “And rum is not the only thing packing.”

  One thought kept Kennedy’s resistance from breaking. That same type of package is what had kept Will in her life for two years—a year, ten months and two days longer than he should have stayed. Yes, she was sure.

 
; “Your offer is tempting,” she replied with a smile to not leave his ego bruised, then reached inside her pouch and pulled out a tip.

  He raised his hands. “Oh no, that’s not necessary, beautiful lady. Squiring you around was my pleasure.”

  “And mine, too, especially since you arranged for me to be your only passenger. That cost you sales.”

  “Not really.” Clinton glanced at Kennedy and continued a bit sheepishly. “Today was my off day. So, your lone fare is more than I would have normally made.”

  “Clinton! You shouldn’t have used your free day for me.”

  “Like I said, it was my pleasure.”

  While appreciating the obvious flirtation from the Caribbean cutie, Kennedy knew the teasing was as far as she’d go. She reached into her purse again and pulled out another bill to add to the one in her hand. “I’m greatly appreciative. It was a wonderful ride.” She held out the money. “I insist.”

  “Okay, beautiful lady. Thank you.”

  They stepped on to the landing. Kennedy hugged Clinton, allowed him a selfie and took one of her own, then strolled down the ramp to a line of awaiting taxis. Feeling the captain’s manly muscles reminded her how long it had been since one had been inside her. It heightened her awareness of the island men’s looks. Suddenly, they were all gorgeous, including the dark chocolate bar who smiled and opened his cab door so she could slide inside. Must be that packing punch rum.

  The hotel was only five minutes away. On the ride there, she planned out the rest of her evening—order room service, do a final read through of her article before sending it off to the travel section editor, upload photos to her cloud accounts, enjoy an eight-plus hour date with her pillow. She entered the lobby and walked over to the concierge.

  “Hello, Hank.”

  “Hello, Kennedy. How are you today?”

  “Deliciously tired. I spent the day on a boat.”

  “Ah, the water. A great lover.”

  “The best. A perfect way to enjoy my last day here.”

  “Leaving so soon? You only arrived.”

  “I feel that way, too. I’ll be back.”